


Whatever's Good For Your Soul

by yukikun13



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukikun13/pseuds/yukikun13
Summary: One-shots that delve into the Soulmates AU. Silly instances where two people find out they were 'meant to be,' in so many different universes...





	1. Imprint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has no idea what the word 'mellifluous' means. But she's jealous that her soulmate doesn't say it. No... She had to be stuck with whoever said 'FUCK.'
> 
> Based off the trope: the words of your soulmate imprint on your skin.

##### 'FUCK.'

It shows up one day in big, bold, black letters that span almost the entire width and length of the inside of my right forearm.

It’s the largest word that’s ever appeared.

The letters were faint at first and darkened over a period of three minutes. I watched in horror as they filled in.

My mom shook her head.

My dad laughed.

I walked around horrified for the next twenty-four hours. I spent the whole day in long sleeves even though it was ninety out. Unlike the previous words that had appeared, I couldn’t hide this one so well.

‘Hella,’ which followed the curve of my left clavicle.

‘Let me down,’ climbing up my ribs on my right side.

‘Disappointment,’ roughly etched into my right shoulder.

‘Bongo,’ curled in a circle on my left hip.

‘Rachel,’ in small letters on my left wrist.

I had others, but they had faded with time. The only one that hadn’t had been the first which had shown up, Bongo, when I was twelve.

When one faded, another popped up.

They’ve gotten more depressing and vulgar over the past few years.

The name ‘Rachel’ is my second most-recent. It appeared a few weeks ago. I still haven’t found out who it is.

Maybe that’s her name… Maybe that’s my _soul mate’s_ name.

Or maybe that’s their girlfriend.

I try not to think about it. I try not to think about them too much. The possibility that my soul mate may be a girl makes me excitably queasy. Some people laugh, most don’t. They know the words don’t lie. A lesbian couple isn’t exactly new in this world.

I think about them a lot, whoever they are, even though I try not to. I fantasize. I wonder where they are. I wonder what they’re doing.

I wonder if they’re thinking of me.

I wonder what words of mine have appeared for them.

“Probably ‘oh my dog’ or ‘wowzers’,” my dad laughs.

I’d say he’s wrong, but he’s not. My vocabulary hasn’t matured with my age. I’m sure one of those phrases _is_ probably scarring their body somewhere. When we meet, I’m sure I’ll find the words and laugh.

Whenever I meet them.

Sometimes I take extra long looks at people. Some show off their words, some hide them under clothes or make-up. Some people have beautiful words like ‘opulent’ or ‘quintessential.’ Some people, like me, have swears and slang.

Warren used to check with me whenever he got a new word to see if it was something I said. It was sweet, but a little creepy. Once ‘mellifluous’ appeared on his arm, and I said I didn’t even know what that meant, he started just to show me the words rather than badger. The words don’t lie.

I’m jealous that he gets ‘mellifluous’ while ‘fuck’ is branded against my tendons.

Kate talks to me about it sometimes. She never shows me her words. They are hidden secrets she keeps locked away.

Victoria and Nathan have been wrapped around each other every second of every day for the past few months. They found each other with ease. They’re the only people in school that are bonded by their words. A lot date, regardless. Some do it in spite of their glaring tattoos of fate. Some do it just to pass time.

I wait.

I spend days and weeks and months roaming, looking.

Surely I will be able to _feel_ something when I meet them, right? An instant attraction? A pull of knowingness? Fate will shove me and say “Here you go, kiddo.”

I only hope, while I weave through the throngs of people at school or on the street, looking for a clue.

I try to work to keep myself occupied. It’s hard.

I roam to find them, wherever they are.

One day, I see a poster in the hallway. A missing person’s poster.

Rachel Amber.

It takes me a few seconds before my brain registers that this could be her. This Rachel. This could be her. It could be her name that has been scribbled on my wrist for the past few weeks.

She’s been missing for months.

If she’s dead, and she _was_ my soulmate, I wouldn’t have ‘fuck’ painted on my forearm.

If she’s alive, and she _is_ my soulmate, then where is she…?

Or...

Maybe my soulmate is looking for her.

Luckily, I can see the person who is putting up posters. I walk up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” I say, and she turns and looks at me.

I see the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen and they’re beautiful. They match the hair she has.

I see a face that is half-stupefied, and half-confused, staring at me.

And then I see it.

A small, cursive word printed on the bottom left corner of her neck.

‘Wowzers.’


	2. Drawings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Chloe are bound by drawings of fate... It's a good thing that they're only semi-permanent.
> 
> Based off the trope: what you draw on your skin appears on your partner's.

I woke up when there was a warm, itchy sensation on the back of my left hand. I scratched at it idly, and when nothing gave I very lazily opened up my right eye. I lifted my hand and blinked a few times against the sunlight streaming against my palm so I could try to see what the itching was. 

A skull.

It was pretty well done, honestly. Bold lines shaped the crown and thinner lines gave some definition to the lack of cheekbones and the jaw. I smiled. I put my head back down on the pillow and closed my eyes. A deep breath filled my lungs and as I released I felt my entire body relax further into my bed. 

Some more itching told me that it wasn’t done, and I opened my eyes again. Some flowers were now blossoming their way into my skin, circling the bottom half of the skull. And, finally, the words ‘good morning’ scribbled themselves next to the flowers. 

The last addition was what made me smile wider and encouraged me to get out of bed. My feet touched carpet, worn and thin from the dozens of students who had lived here before me, and I walked over to my desk in the corner of the room. A thin black sharpie was sitting parallel to my computer, and I picked it up and turned over my left hand to reveal my palm. Right in the middle, I drew a small heart with an arrow through it.

I let the ink seep into the lines in my hand, and waited to see if there was going to be any reaction. It wouldn’t take long; the transfer time was incredibly fast, just a few seconds. I waited and tapped the uncapped marker against the inside of my wrist. 

A burning started up in the palm of my hand. I glowered. 

_‘GAY_ ’ was scribbled across the heart and I choked on a laugh that tried to surface from the depths of my stomach.

More burning. I continued to look at my palm and the words “Love you” appeared.

A bubbly feeling in my heart started up. My smile returned. I drew another heart and put the marker back down on the desk. My palm kept burning, and when I looked back, the shaft and head of a penis were almost completely formed, using the bumps on my heart for balls. “Dog dammit….” I cursed. I made a hasty grab for the marker, popped off the cap, and immediately started drawing emojis all over my arms and legs. I could almost _feel_ how irritated this would make her.

A few minutes later, I felt all the burning over the emojis I had just drawn. No doubt they were being scribbled out as well as they could be. It’d be hard to explain those if anyone asked.

I sighed and decided that I needed a shower. At least if I washed off some of the ink I would only be left with some scribbles… Assuming Chloe didn’t wash off. The thought made me a little giddy. Chloe in the shower…

I grabbed my shower caddy and some clothes before I left my room. The hallways were empty, the result of a Sunday morning. Everyone was sleeping in, per usual. The showers would be empty, and I would have all the time to take. 

I stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water. In about twenty seconds, the water was finally scalding, and I stepped in. It hurt, as it always did, but it pleasurable in a way. As the water rushed against my scalp and through my hair, I closed my eyes and drifted into my thoughts.

Chloe and I had been drawing to each other for the past few years… Ever since she had written “I hate myself” on her forearm and I couldn’t get it to come off. It was the weirdest sensation… I remembered wondering if I was having a heart attack or something… And when I tried to scribble the words out (since they _weren’t_ coming off despite everything I tried), she wrote it again. Every time I scribbled, it got written again. And, finally, I put “love” above the scribbled out word of “hate.” Only then did I get a different message: “How did you do that?”

And that was when I realized there was someone else on the other side of my body, so close yet so far away… I hadn’t yet realized it would bring me the greatest joy of my life.

Of course, it hadn’t always been like that. Coming to Arcadia Bay, literally in the middle of nowhere in Oregon, from Seattle hadn’t exactly been a trip that was free of nerves. But when I saw her standing there at the bus stop, the _only_ one at the bus stop on a clear April day, I knew that was her. I knew it even before I stepped off the bus and stood awkwardly in front of her. I knew it before she looked at me, coughed, and then wrote something on her hand. I knew it before the word “Hi” burned into my palm, and she said, “I didn’t think you’d recognize me without it.”

I probably wouldn’t have guessed that this tall, thin, dangerously attractive and just as dangerously devious woman was the person on the other end of my body. 

But I wasn’t unhappy at all.

And now, a few years later, here we were… 

I shut off the water and toweled off. Most of the marks I had made on myself were gone now, although Chloe’s still remained. Even though it took seconds to transfer, erasing the doodles took longer. For some reason, those would last for the next few hours, which meant I had a _lot_ of scribbles on my arms and legs… But they’d fade, assuming Chloe would wash up soon, and I could cover most of them with clothes. 

Once I dressed, I pulled back the curtain, and Kate had just entered the bathrooms. “Hey, Kate,” I greeted warmly. She gave me a polite smile in return, and asked how I was before she noticed some of the blotches on my arms. 

“Max, is everything okay? Your arms…”

“Oh,” I said, and looked down. I opened my hands and turned them over, looking at the doodles and acknowledging them before giving Kate a sheepish grin. “Yeah… Chloe and I got in a doodle war.” She had met Chloe, so thankfully this description would explain everything. Chloe with a sharpie was a force of nature. 

But Kate didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at my hand, and when I looked down, I remembered why. The gigantic dick that was shooting from the heart I had drawn. Most of the heart had come off in the shower, although I hadn’t remembered to spend a lot of time on my palm. Kate went white. I went red. “S-So, I’ll see you later, then! Have a good day!” I said, hurriedly, before I stormed out of the bathroom with my caddy.

I could practically _hear_ Kate commenting on my sinning and praying for my soul as I left. She was never going to forget that…

\----

That night, I sat on my bed and was reading a book for class, _The Art of Photography_ , when the burning on my hand started up again. I groaned, turned the book over, and looked at my knuckles. Where I had been expecting profanity or vulgarity, I was instead greeted with _MC + CP_. 

I smiled, reached into my pocket for my phone, and dialed Chloe’s number. It took a few rings, but finally she picked up. “Hey Maxaroo, what’s up?”

“You know that you’re cute?” I asked, nearly cooing at her.

“I am not.”

“No?” I asked, looking back down at my knuckles, “Because I’m pretty sure I melted over here after that last thing you wrote to me…”

There was silence on the line. “You did?” finally came through the receiver, although the tone was questioning and so light it was like air beneath a butterfly’s idle wings. 

“Yeah,” I reassured her, my voice still holding onto the warm and sappy tone that I had used earlier. I continued to stare at my knuckles, my book completely forgotten about as it sat sadly on my lap. “You never washed up, though.”

“I did.”

“Oh…” I said, staring at my arms. Maybe the scribbles _had_ gotten a little lighter… But the cartoon phallus on my palm hadn’t. “Your hands?”

I heard a small snicker in the background. “You deserve to have that _forever_.”

“Chloe Price, I swear to dog I will put an emoji on your _face_ if you don’t wash it off.”

I could feel her weighing the options over the phone, then heard a disgruntled and harsh sigh. “I’ll wash it off…” she mumbled. I smirked.

“Thank you. Now, I gotta do this reading, okay? I can talk to you tomorrow?” 

“ _You_ called _me_ , and _now_ you’re going to do your reading?” 

“Shush. Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, hippie.”

I ended the call but stared at my phone. I still had a small smile on my face, and I tapped the top corner of the phone against my chin. She was cute… I would keep her…

I put my phone and my textbook down on the bed, again abandoning the reading I needed to do, and walked over to my desk. I picked up the sharpie I had left there that morning and started tracing over the ink in my hand. I carefully went over each letter as if the tiniest detail out of order would end my life… 

I wanted the drawing gone. 

But I wanted to see her words of ‘love you’ printed on my skin for the rest of my life. 

And I wanted her to see them too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and for the kudos!! I was so scared to post these, since there seems to be a LOT of hate for the Soulmate AUs, but I am so pleased about the positive reception! THANK YOU!!!


	3. Tattooed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Chloe have been together through everything... But when fate surprises Chloe more than Max, Chloe demands some answers. 
> 
> Based on the trope: Soulmates have a random sentence tattooed that that person will say around them. And so you know it’s not just a coincidence when they say it, the tattoo stings and fades away. 
> 
> ... BUT WITH A TWIST. ;)

“Chloe, are you coming or _what_?”

I heard a gruff grunt from the couch and waited. ‘ _Three… Two… One…’_ A bang sounded from the living room. ‘ _And we have liftoff_ ,’ I thought snidely, and gave a few more seconds of pause before Chloe Price managed to shuffle my way and towards the kitchen. Her eyes were half-closed, her posture crumpled, and the pout on her face was the most pitiful thing I’d ever seen. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I said, receiving another grunt in response. “You know, I texted you over hour ago. You told me you’d be napping for fifteen minutes. I didn’t realize your fifteen minutes had extended into the entire afternoon.” 

Chloe flipped me off as she walked past me. She stopped in front of the fridge, opened it, scanned the contents, and plucked a carton of orange juice from it. She unscrewed the lid, keeping the door to the fridge propped open with her foot, and drank straight from the mouth of the carton. I smirked. If Joyce could only _see_ her now… She would have a _field day_. 

As soon as Chloe returned the carton to the fridge, she looked at me. She seemed more alert, but still just as annoyed. “Can’t a girl get some decent shut eye for once in her life?” she asked, her tone painfully sharp even though she didn’t _mean_ to hold a knife to my throat with it. 

“I’m _sorry_ , I thought you actually _wanted_ to go out on a date with me,” I replied, atoning sarcasm in _just_ the right places that made Chloe’s annoyance wipe off her face like an etch-a-sketch. She looked a little shocked, then looked away from me and scratched at the back of her head, just beneath her beanie. 

“Yeah, okay…” she muttered, still refusing to look me in the eye. “Sorry, Maximus.”

I closed the five feet of space between us and lightly kissed her. “There you are,” I said, my voice calm and cool. “Now that you’re actually awake, are you ready to go?”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, I just need to grab my keys.”

“Where’d you put ‘em?” 

“I dunno.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you cereal, Chlo?” I asked, a tone of desperation in my voice. “First you fall asleep and _now_ your keys are lost?” She gave me her trademark grin, toothy smile and everything, and I got lost staring at it before I sighed. “I’m sure they’re here _somewhere_ …” 

I turned and started heading towards the living room. I paused at the dining room table and sifted through some of the papers that were on there. Bills, a magazine, some newspaper clippings… I got distracted as some hands slid on my sides and to my waist. I almost turned and decked Chloe, but she was quick and had squished me against her stomach. “Chloe, we are _not_ going to find your keys like this…” I said. I couldn’t tell if I was more frustrated or amused, but I was definitely a bit of both. 

Chloe’s mouth hovered by my ear and she kissed it gently. “What if I don’t wanna find them…?” she asked, and I shivered. _Dog dammit_ her voice always put a frickin’ chill down my spine.

I put my hands on hers and squeezed. “You just wanna stay in like we normally do?” I asked, still unable to look at her while she placed kisses against my ear and slowly down my neck. I bit my bottom lip and held my breath. Chloe was _excellent_ at picking up _any_ encouragement, no matter how accidental or instinctual it was. 

“Maybe.” 

Her voice was low and even, a light dusting of a rouse brushed over her one word. I nearly shivered again. “We can always hang out here… I thought you wanted to go somewhere?”

She chuckled. I didn’t hear it as much as feel it vibrate against my back. 

“I wanna go down on you, Maxie.”

 _That_ did it. I pushed Chloe’s arms down and spun in her arms. “Gross,” I commented, flatly, and she started laughing at me. “Just so freaking _grosssssss_ ,” I continued, and shoved at her shoulders playfully. She continued laughing. 

“What?! I didn’t say anything wrong!” she defended herself. She had that gigantic shit-eating-grin on her face, the one that was so natural and wide that it was _impossible_ not to swoon a little over it. I rolled my eyes at her and pointed my finger at her threateningly.

“That’s it. I’m gonna find your keys and I’m gonna go to the movies _by myself_ and you’re gonna be _so_ sad!” I said, and the laughter that kept pouring out of her mouth was going to flood the house. She was holding onto her ribs, her eyes clenched together, and it was too much. I started smiling. Yes, she was a dork. She was crude and dirty and sometimes just too much altogether… But she was _mine_. 

“I love you, you idiot.”

“OW, FUCK!”

I quickly stopped smiling and rushed to Chloe. She had stopped laughing and was now holding her right arm, staring at the inside of it. “Are you okay?!” I asked, and grabbed her arm to look at it. Small letters, shining as if they were written in golden ink, were _glowing_ on her skin. They spelled out what I just said, “I love you, you idiot.” I looked up at Chloe as she looked down at me, and her face was _anything_ but comical or calm. 

“Max…” Her voice was so quiet it could have been muffled by a mouse moving in the walls. “You… What you just said.”

I smiled. “I was wondering when that might show up.” 

She looked at me, confused, and continued holding her arm. “Max, stop fucking around. You know what this means, right?” She held her arm out closer to me, as if I _didn’t_. The words had already started to lose their shimmer, turning into a white color that was just a bit lighter than her skin tone. I didn’t think that was possible. 

“Yeah, I know.”

She looked at me, shocked. I started to smirk. _That_ pissed her off. “What do you mean, ‘yeah, you know’?! Why aren’t you freaking out about this?! That you… That you and _I_ are…”

I almost laughed, but bit my lip to keep that from happening. Chloe was going to explode if I didn’t treat this as seriously as she clearly was. “Because I already knew.”

“You _knew_?!”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, but said nothing. Chloe’s shocked face was, in essence, _Price_ less. 

“How did you know?! How _long_ have you known?! And _why didn’t you tell me_?!”

I waited until she was done, an eyebrow raised, and then unzipped my hoodie. That started to get her attention. Sex hadn’t _exactly_ been on the front of my mind for the past few weeks we’d been dating, and Chloe’s antsiness about it hadn’t been forgotten or ignored. Apparently just me unzipping my hoodie was enough for her to settle down and focus quietly for a second. “I’ve known since we were twelve.” I pulled my hoodie off, revealing my pink t-shirt, and held out my left arm for her. 

Almost invisible, in a very light white, almost like a scar, I had my own words on my skin, words she had said years ago that told me, in no uncertain terms, that Chloe Price was my soulmate. 

_She’s never leaving me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I changed the trope a little because I felt that there were too many loopholes around this trope. I think it'd be too easy for someone to see the tattoo and then say the sentence, which, given the characters, Chloe would have done ages ago just to be a smartass. So I changed it a little to make it that the sentence appears when it's said, then it's a surprise for all!
> 
> As always, thank you for your comments and your kudos. <3 I am so glad that everyone is enjoying themselves so far!!


	4. Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's science: you have one person who would be your best genetic match, which would provide the best future for society. You can find them as soon as you turn eighteen.
> 
> Max thinks the idea is romantic.  
> Chloe thinks it's bullshit.

I’ve been waiting for her for almost an hour now. 

I’m not surprised. Chloe Price is almost the textbook definition of unpunctual, but I’m extra on-edge today. I have been ever since this morning. Today was the day that we finally, _finally_ , got to see our marks. 

Normally, we get our marks in June the year we turn eighteen, but Chloe’s been stalling on hers since last year because she didn’t care enough to get it, even though I _know_ it’s because she wanted to get them at the same time I did. She’ll never admit it, but I’ve known her for nearly a decade and a half now, so I would bet money on it.

I was scheduled this morning. The marks are simple and easy: a blood-reaction to an introduced chemical essentially creates a pattern, about an inch-and-a-half tall and half-an-inch wide, on the inside of your elbow, right where the injection is. Chloe’s explained the exact procedure and why the chemical does this and why it’s unique for all individuals, but I’ve already forgotten the details. I’ve been too focused on the fact that this mark, whatever it was, would somehow enable me to know who my genetic match was. That was as science-fiction-y as I could take. 

I look through the crowd on the boardwalk _one more time_. Still no Chloe. I must look like a lunatic, or a vulture, while I’m sitting on a bench near the edge of the ocean and staring at almost every person that passes by. The new faces are all tourists, and while most ignore me, there are definitely a few that seem a little shocked by how serious, or how anxious, my expression seems to be. 

‘ _She’ll get here when she gets here.’_

I’ve been telling myself that since I was fourteen. Chloe was often the last to arrive to _anything_ we did, even if I let myself leave late. It doesn’t help the fact that right now I’m feeling ecstatic enough to jump into the ocean and swim to Japan, let alone impatient that she’s taking so long. Sure, her mark-lab wasn’t for a few hours _after_ mine, and we promised we’d meet up around five to do the big reveal before dinner, but _still_. It’s past six, I’m starving, and Chloe is _seriously_ going to owe me some noms after this. 

“Yo, Maximus!”

I turn so fast I swear that I can see passerby jump at my sudden movement. Chloe is walking down the weathered boards, left hand up in the air in a small wave while her right is shoved in her pocket, and she has this carefree smile on her face. Her leather jacket is covering her arms, which is fine, because so is my hoodie. We didn’t want any surprises before we were _completely_ ready to show each other. 

“You get it?!” I ask her, and I jump onto my feet and close the distance between us. 

“Nope. Didn’t work on me. Guess I’m destined to be alone,” she retorts, and I glare at her. 

“Chloe Price, I swear to dog, you’ve left me stranded here for over an _hour_ and you _dare_ joke like that?” 

She grins. ‘ _What an ass,’_ I joke bitterly, but Chloe being silly and sarcastic is _almost_ as reliable as her lack of punctuality. “You owe me food,” I tell her, and that makes her face falter for just a second. 

“Whatever, I’m sure Mom’ll pick up whatever you want seeing as she _knows_ what today is,” Chloe responds with a small shrug of her shoulders. I roll my eyes. Yes, we’re almost _sure_ to get interrogated as soon as we hit Two Whales. 

“Alright, then let’s go and do this!” My voice practically squeals with delight, and Chloe starts smirking at me. “Shut up,” I defend myself against her silent judgement, “I’ve been waiting for you all day and I’m excited!”

“Why?” she asks, and the flat tone of her voice sort of shocks me. Sure, the indifference that she expressed for getting these marks left me wondering if she’d _ever_ get them, since they’re entirely voluntary, but the way she asked that just now sounded like she’d rather eat a tub of nails than relish in the excitement. I must have a really shocked look on my face, because her smile continues to falter and she quickly adds, “It’s not like it’s gonna change anything, right?” 

It’s my turn to falter now. She’s not wrong. The chemical test is mainly for who would, biologically, be your best match… It’s supposed to be a ‘survival of the fittest’ sort of deal. The chemical they inject supposedly filters through certain components of your DNA and fills in the gaps, metaphorically speaking. What’s left is a mark that will be the polar opposite of your partner’s, thus creating the ‘perfect union’ for the next generation. And, if you’re as dumb as I am, the lab gives you a print-out that tells you what the arrangement of your mark means in numbers. As long as your partner has their paper, too, you can compare the numbers: they will be exact opposites, a string of numbers that fills up an entire standard-sized sheet of paper like the one I have tucked in my back pocket. 

I think the idea is sort of romantic. 

Chloe’s always thought the idea was bullshit. 

“If you don’t _want_ to do this, Chloe, we can just skip it,” I tell her. I can’t mask my disappointment. Even if I did, she’d see right through me. I’ve never been a good liar. But the offer stands, and Chloe sits on it for a few seconds before she shakes her head and lets out a disgruntled, gruff sigh. 

“Let’s just look at them and get it over with. I already got the stupid thing revealed, so it’s not like it’s gonna un-reveal itself,” she cedes, and I smile. “Plus,” she adds, “If I don’t do it, you’re gonna keep giving me those big puppy-dog eyes until I do, so I might as well save myself from the torture.” 

My smile widens. I start taking a few steps off the boardwalk and onto the beach. “Ah, I’ve trained you well,” I tease, and she follows me and gives me a light shove. My feet catch myself (luckily) as I stumble into the sand and somehow remain upright. 

As soon as we’re about ten feet off the boardwalk and away from the throngs of people, I pull at the edge of my right sleeve. On my elbow is my mark, and I’ve been _incredibly_ patient to _not_ look at it for the past eight hours. “You ready?” I ask her, continuing to grin. 

She smirks back in response and takes her right hand out of her pocket, mirroring my action. “Let’s do this, Maxie.” She pauses, intentionally no doubt, and we both smirk at each other. “Three… Two… One…”

We both pull on our sleeves. Mine gets caught right in my elbow, which makes me wince a little from how tender it still is, but Chloe gets hers up on the first go. She suffocates a snort while I start pulling on the sides of my sleeve to get it up higher. “Shut up!” I exclaim, while staring at my elbow to get my sleeve above my mark to reveal it. 

It’s cute, even though it looks like a blood-blister. The whole rectangle of the space is almost filled a deep crimson color, save for three bold, white lines of skin on the right side, and four smaller squares to the left. It almost looks like some pixels on a computer screen have been blown out. “Huh…” I say, “I expected something a little… _Cooler_ …” I’m disappointed. I’ve seen my parents’ marks, and even _theirs_ are a little more complex. I look up at Chloe, and when I hold my arm so she can actually see it, I see her jaw drop. 

I look at her arm at the same time, and my jaw drops too.

Three bold, red lines on the left side, with four smaller squares to the right. 

A perfect mirror. 

For a second, I don’t believe what I’m seeing. I don’t believe that I’m seeing the _exact_ opposite of my mark on my girlfriend. I look at Chloe’s face again and somehow she’s gotten _paler_. 

“Dude…” the word flutters off of her lips, and her right arm drops. 

“P-Paper!” I stammer, and she takes a second to realize what I’ve said before she suddenly starts patting her body down, looking for the paper that she has, more than likely, lost. I pull mine from my back pocket, and I unfold it clumsily. 

When I look up at Chloe, she’s got hers, thank dog, and she’s opening it. “First line,” I say, looking at the numbers. There are so many… But this is important. It _can’t_ be a coincidence. “Four, two, nine, nine, eight, four, seven,” I read off, and look up at Chloe. 

She’s gotten paler still, but there’s a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. Her eyes look at mine. “Second line, two, two, nine, one, seven, seven, three,” she says at me, and I look down to my paper. _Three, seven, seven, one, nine, two, two_.

“Four, three, six, five, eight, one, five.”

“Two, nine, one, four, five, four, two.”

They’re matching. 

With every line she says back at me, my paper is reading the exact opposite. 

I’ve beaten the odds and have, somehow, matched with the love of my life. 

I look at Chloe, and now she’s beaming. She looks so smug until she closes the few steps between us and snakes her arm around my waist and pulls me into a fierce kiss. It fills me with warmth and I can practically feel the worry she’d had melting off around us. 

“So, stupid test, huh?” I ask her, and she lets out a gruff sigh.

“Shut up and kiss me, hippie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left comments, or given kudos on these little snippets! I hope you enjoy this new addition as I tried to add in something a little more science-fiction-y to the mix.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you read? Follow me on tumblr @shesneverleavingme (Max) and @borntobedown (Chloe)!


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